The Penny in the Parking Lot: Part 3
by SGreenD
Summary: Alternatively titled "The One with the Match". Devil finally returns to Harlan, but his past deeds decide to follow him, leaving in their wake a path of devastation and death. - Season 3/4 AU.
1. Chapter 1

Well, hello there. Yeah, I'm still alive. Now, if there is ANYONE still interested in this, there are a few things I need to say. First off, I'm sorry for the wait. I thought I would be a lot quicker, but life kept interfering; first a writer's block, then university, then private problems that took a lot out of me, then university again, yadda yadda. Fact is, I only have four chapters done, and Lord knows when I'll be able to continue, but if there is anybody left who actually wanted to read Part 3, this is me telling you I didn't abandon it, so I'm gonna post the first four chapters with the promise of more to come. Just don't know when.

Secondly, this starts off directly after the last chapter of The Very Cold Night and a few hours after the end of The Wolf Mother, just so you know what you're reading here. Also, The Penny Part 3 is still a season 3 AU and has nothing whatsoever to do with season 4, as I (and I guess I made that quite clear) really did not like that season.

The quote at the beginning from "Young Goodman Brown" I chose because, well, if you have about the same survey of the previous Penny parts, you'll see that it's just perfect on so many levels. And it's also a foreboding for this part.

As is the case with all my other Justified fics, this story contains explicit language and violence.

Disclaimer: Neither Justified nor any of its characters belong to me and I am not making any money with this. Also, the opinions expressed in this story are those of the characters and not to be confused with mine.

WARNING: Usage of the n-word.

Here goes nothing. Have fun!

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><p>The Penny in the Parking Lot: Part 3<p>

The One with the Match

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><p>Chapter 1<p>

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><p>"You miss it so much. Harlan. You still wanna go back there."<p>

"Well, yeah, course. It's my home."

"Then you should just go."

"What, Nina-"

"Tell this Boyd that you ain't takin' no for an answer any more, Devil. I ain't askin' you to leave me, and I ain't mad at you. I just… I see how much you miss it. You're homesick as all hell and don't dare lie and say you ain't. And all I want is to see you happy, Devil, and you are happy with me, I know that much, but I also know you'd be a lot happier in Harlan."

"But you ain't in Harlan."

"Yeah, but you still wanna go, right?"

"Yeah."

"I thought so. Look, I… we can make this work. I'll visit you, you'll visit me, we can figure somethin' out. We made this work, this batshit insane thing, so far. We can do this, too."

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><p><em>With this excellent resolve for the future, Goodman Brown felt himself justified in making more haste on his present evil purpose. He had taken a dreary road, darkened by all the gloomiest trees of the forest, which barely stood aside to let the narrow path creep through, and closed immediately behind. It was all as lonely as could be; and there is this peculiarity in such a solitude, that the traveler knows not who may be concealed by the innumerable trunks and the thick boughs overhead; so that with lonely footsteps he may yet be passing through an unseen multitude.<em>

"_There may be a devilish Indian behind every tree" said Goodman Brown to himself; and he glanced fearfully behind him as he added, "What if the Devil himself should be at my very elbow!"_

(Nathaniel Hawthorne: "Young Goodman Brown", 1835)

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><p>It was late in the night in Harlan County, and Boyd Crowder sat on the couch in Ava's house and stared through the darkness. He long since had turned off the light and given up trying to coax his girlfriend into going to bed, and although Ava had insisted to sit and wait with him, at 1 o'clock she had succumbed to her exhaustion and fallen asleep next to him. Boyd listened to her quiet intakes of breath, felt her hand twitch right next to his thigh. He himself was beyond foreworn after the events of the past day. The effects of a tazer gun were more painful than he'd thought. Every time he shifted, he felt a pull and burn in the muscles of his back, where the resentful Eddie Moran had tazered him.<p>

But Boyd wanted to stay awake and wait; he had an incentive after all. Tonight was a night he himself had been waiting for, but intentionally postponed, for the last six months. He did not understand Ava's insistence to wait, though. He did not quite believe her explanation of "when they get here, you'll all wake me up anyways"; but Ava was an intelligent woman, and he never spent too much of his precious time questioning her motives.

It was a very cold night, and Boyd could hear the wind howl and the rain crackling on the roof and windows. He kept his eyes on the porch, ready to move as soon as he saw the light of a nearing car.

He did not wonder whether Devil had changed at all. That was not the question. The question was, how much.

Boyd Crowder had been aware that sending Devil into enemy's territory was a high risk that could have come with a high price. The hurt Boyd had felt at Devil's betrayal outweighed that knowledge in the end, though, because Boyd and Devil had known each other for such a long time and Boyd had been convinced he knew the man; and when he had been proven wrong, he had not only been disappointed with Devil, but also with himself, something that did not happen a lot. He would never forget the day he met the young Derek Lennox with the Honorary Title of "Devil", who was really just a kid freshly released from jail that had lost everything he valued save for his cousin, a hardened military man of Boyd's age who scrutinized Boyd with the suspicion of a man who had seen too much.

Devil and Boyd talked in the hallway of the small apartment, where Boyd told Devil that he could use a man like him. Back then, when Boyd had nothing to go by but Devil's grim, slightly vulnerable exterior and the Southern Justice flag on his arm, he had meant nothing by that comment but, "I could use a simple-minded, ignorant racist like you", and in many situations later on, Devil proved to be just that; but there were differences to the other supremacists he hired to do his dirty work.

For one, Devil was not as dumb as he appeared. There were times when he offered real insights not even Boyd had considered, and on more than one occasion he had seen and uncovered breaches in plans and crucial shortcomings in participants of these plans. Boyd started seeing his value as more than a simple henchman.

A year and a half after Boyd had recruited him, Devil started loosening up. He smiled more, cracked jokes, and Boyd understood that Devil was beginning to trust him. That alone demonstrated to Boyd that he was a little more complicated than the others, who had put their destinies into Boyd's hands after five minutes of his speech about mud people and blowing up nigger churches that he knew by heart at this point. Devil had listened to it and looked at Boyd while he was holding the speech, and after the speech he shrugged and said, "cool", but it was obvious he never bought into it. And Boyd Crowder, the man he was, could not help but be impressed by that.

The other thing was Devil's attitude towards killing. When Boyd had given Devil the order to kill for the very first time, Devil had grown into a man in the four years prior, and he had shot a lot of people in those four years, proving to be an excellent shooter, but he had never shot with the intention to kill, and Boyd was conscious of that lack of determination. He wanted the kid to stop valuing the human life. Boyd Crowder knew it was a terribly cruel thing to do, but back then he truly did not care.

And so he had Devil kill a chandler in Evarts who was said to be a nigger lover, and after they buried the body together he watched as Devil vomited into some bushes near Bowman's place and felt a small, oh-so-small pang of regret. That pang of regret did not last long, and Boyd would soon understand it need not have been there in the first place. The second time Devil killed someone, Boyd was standing next to him, and he was pleased to see that this time around, Devil pulled the trigger without hesitation; but his face was set in a grimace that Boyd took a few moments to interpret, and when he did eventually understand, it amazed him. This man called "Devil" had not stopped valuing life as Boyd had wanted him to. If anything, it seemed he valued it even more than before.

Boyd could have resented Devil for that innocence, because Boyd had lost that feeling of value a long, long time ago. He placated himself with the thought that, at the rate they were going, Devil would lose it at some point or another. And if he did not, it appeared not to hinder his ability to kill. If Devil wanted to torture himself with thoughts of regret at taking lives, who was Boyd to tell him not to? Should Devil ever decide to quit, or even possess the audacity to betray Boyd, Boyd would just kill him.

Boyd smiled through the darkness in the living room. He remembered thinking this clear as day even nine years later. Now he knew nothing was really that simple. When the day had come he had envisioned back then, he had not killed Devil. He had not been able to perform the needed action to the bitter end.

After the first shot to Devil's side, Boyd should have gotten up, put the gun to Devil's head and finished their business once and for all, because in their business you could not abide traitors. That was what he should have done, and Boyd was certain that, if there were universes other than this one, there had to be at least one version of himself that had done just that.

But he had not done it. He had righted Devil in his chair, all the while having him be held at gunpoint by Johnny, who looked quite pleased with himself, and then he had given Devil a chance to explain. A tiny part of him did not want to hear it, that was how disappointed he was; what most of Boyd wanted to know was what had gone this terribly wrong, and for a fellow like Devil, who really did not have much, and who was probably jealous of what Boyd and Ava had (after all, Boyd knew how Devil had earned himself his Honorary Title), it seemed plausible. A little too reckless after all they had gone through together. But plausible nonetheless.

And after Devil had stuttered and stumbled over his words to explain himself, Boyd could still have killed him. SHOULD still have. But he did not. Instead he sent Devil to Frankfort to infiltrate the Dixie Mafia, and maybe a small part of him did expect Devil to let his life there, because there really wasn't much for him to do but entice Dixie Mafia employees away and get to know Quarles a little better. Boyd knew himself well enough to know there was still a certain amount of resentment at play when they had their occasional phone calls over the first several weeks. Devil kept asking him whether he could come back now, and Boyd kept answering no, and he felt a tiny bit of satisfaction at Devil's disappointment every time.

Then something happened that changed Devil; he did not call for a longer period of time, and when he did, he was less talkative, essentially only asking whether he could come back now, and when Boyd answered in the negative, he wanted to hang up. Boyd asked him what had happened, because something HAD to have happened, and Devil hesitated, remained silent for a few seconds, and then mumbled, "I hate workin' for Quarles. I wanna shoot him in the motherfuckin' head."

Then he hung up, While Boyd understood that notion (and he very much did, indeed), he did not think it was a good idea for Devil to do that, but he did not get the chance to say so. That was when Boyd started getting worried.

Resentment turned into regret when Boyd learned of Devil getting stabbed. It had not been Quarles to do the stabbing, but it had been an assignment for Quarles that led up to it, and Boyd would have liked to chop off Quarles's other arm for that. After that he wanted Devil to stay away from Harlan to give him time to heal up, and when Quarles was gone the enticing employees away seemed to work even better for Devil than before. Duffy paid him the money Devil had rightly deserved.

Around Christmas Boyd understood that Devil was needed back in Harlan. Him leaving had left a free spot in his team, and Johnny seemed to view himself as the incontestable successor to this spot, but he lacked Devil's people skills and was not mobile, for obvious reasons. Jimmy wanted to fill that spot just as much, but lacked experience and smarts. Danny did not care to take on any other position than being Boyd's eyes and ears, and Boyd was fine with that. And somehow, other than Jimmy, none of the fellows Johnny was able to recruit lasted longer than a month.

Boyd's stomach grumbled. It made him chuckle silently. After having felt sick all day, it was a nice change to feel hunger again, although it was probably a little late for dinner now. When he looked out the window again, he saw headlights nearing, and he knew Devil had returned.

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><p>When they arrived in Harlan, it was 2 am and the temperature stood at a solid 38 degrees. Freezing rain was lightly drizzling down on the road, and Devil had narrowly avoided falling asleep at the wheel twice. Carlisle kept on sleeping like it was all he ever did, and Caleb kept on staring out the window at the passing blackness, not saying a word. The music from Keegan's farewell CD seemed to be swallowed by the silence of the night.<p>

Devil pulled up in front of Ava's house and barely recognized it in the darkness and rain. He parked his 4runner still half on the road, he just stopped and got out of the car and outright stared at the house like he had never seen it before. Caleb woke Carlisle and left the car to stand himself next to Devil, looking at him questioningly. Caleb had never actually seen the place before, so he could not tell what had thrown Devil.

"You alright, man?"

"Yeah" Devil said after a few seconds. "Just… glad to be back."

"So that's it, huh?" Carlisle said, slamming the car door shut. "Harlan?" He looked around.

"Yup."

Devil rubbed at his forehead. It was itching under the damned wool hat Nina had made him wear.

"That's the place where this Boyd guy lives, right?" Caleb asked.

"Yeah."

"So… what do we do?"

The question didn't need to be answered as light suddenly shone from the windows of the house, blinding Devil, who had seen nothing but the street in his headlights for the last five hours. Caleb also had to blink.

"Seems like they already know we're here."

"Yeah" Devil murmured. He felt strange.

The front door opened, revealing the bright hallway, and a figure stood in the door frame, illuminated from behind so that his face was difficult to discern; but Devil recognized Boyd immediately.

"Devil" Boyd said, with his typical, slow, broad pronunciation. It was hard to see, but Devil was pretty sure he was grinning.

"'lo, Boyd" Devil said and suddenly felt incredibly misplaced. What was he to do now? Should he go to Boyd? Should he hug him? His not being a fan of hugging aside, he had never hugged Boyd before, in all the years they knew each other. He was aware Boyd didn't have inhibitions about it. He'd seen him hug the Marshal. Devil had not been in a re-uniting situation since Lewis had left the Army, and that was a damn long time ago. Devil felt so out of his depth he didn't catch on to the fact that Boyd was descending the steps from the porch until they stood face to face and Boyd grabbed his shoulders.

"You look good, son" Boyd said, and Devil shook himself awake.

"Uh, yeah, you, too."

Boyd was grinning, shaking his head. Devil huffed a bit. "S'real good to see you, Boyd."

"I could say the same to you. And who are those young men standin' in the dark right there?"

Boyd looked behind him, at Caleb and Carlisle, who had been keeping silent in the background.

"Oh, right. Uh, that's Caleb Danvers, the one who needs a place to hide, and that's Kevin Carlisle."

"The man who wants to try himself at somethin' other than muscle work, if I remember correctly?"

"Yeah, that's me." Carlisle smiled and grabbed Boyd's hand. By the way how Boyd shook it out afterwards, Devil knew Carlisle had been a bit too enthusiastic, as usual.

"Well, fellas, don't stand outside in the cold all night, I'd suggest we step inside to ascertain that you properly arrive. You gentlemen must be rather overwrought, I'd think, after bein' on the road so long."

Devil sighed. He'd missed Boyd's ridiculous language more than he'd thought.

He was the first to enter the house, Boyd, Caleb and Carlisle in tow, and suddenly Ava stood before him. She had obviously just woken up from a too short nap, her hair was mussed, but she still looked beautiful as ever. Devil hardly remembered why he didn't like her much when she looked like this.

Ava blinked at him sleepily. "Devil" she greeted. "You're back."

And then she did something he would have never suspected. She stepped forward, and then she hugged him.

Devil stiffened up. Not sure what to do, he lifted a hand and put it awkwardly on her shoulder. The hug probably only lasted two seconds, but to Devil it felt much longer. Afterwards Ava scrutinized him.

"You look tired" she stated. Devil huffed.

"So do you, woman."

"You want coffee?"

Devil suppressed the urge to rub at his side when the question brought up an unpleasant memory. Ava caught his gaze and he could see she too thought of the day she'd been shot by Dickie fucking Bennett.

"Devil? Do you?"

"Yeah, sure" Devil answered. "No sugar, by the way."

Ava smiled a little as she nodded. "Alright. And who would you two handsome boys be?"

Caleb was incredibly uncomfortable in this foreign environment and its hospitality that had to be almost too forthcoming to someone as paranoid as him.

"My name's Caleb, no coffee for me, thanks" he mumbled quietly, and it made Ava smile at him warmly.

"D'you want anythin' else then, sweetie?"

Caleb shrugged. Boyd could probably sense his discomfort as much as Devil, and he put a hand on Caleb's arm and spoke to him as calmly as he was able to.

"There ain't nothin' to worry about, son, you're safe with us. We ain't got nothin' wicked in store for you."

Caleb nodded slowly, still not a hundred percent convinced. "I'm starving" he eventually said.

"Me, too" Devil chimed in.

"Alright, you boys. How bout some sandwiches? I got ham and cheese in the fridge?"

Ava proceeded to make the sandwiches, introducing herself to Carlisle, who was a stark contrast to Caleb's aloofness, seemingly having no inhibitions at all. He shook Ava's hand, trying consciously to not crush her delicate fingers, and introduced himself in a stream of words; his name was Kevin Carlisle, he used to live with his mom in Coxs Creek, and yeah, he knew nobody had ever heard of the place, it was a really small town, and he was sure he was gonna miss his mom, but he still wanted to leave, and he didn't like coffee much, but did Ava have a coke for him?

"Pepsi would totally do, too" he said and grinned at her good-naturedly.

"You really don't look tired at all, Kevin" Ava said when she grabbed a coke for him.

"Well, he spent the entire drive passed out on the backseat" Devil said.

"I feel fine" Carlisle stated and took a huge bite from his sandwich to prove it. Boyd laughed at that.

"We should still think about where you can set up camp for the night, should you need any more rest. Your travel companions sure look a lot less energetic than you do."

All eyes shifted to Caleb, who had only taken one bite of his sandwich, his eyes falling shut every few seconds. Devil bumped an elbow into his side.

"Wha'" Caleb slurred.

"You wanna take a nap, dude?"

"Yeah, sure, why not." Caleb rubbed at his eyes and yawned into his shoulder. "I'm just gonna finish this." He picked up the sandwich again. "It's delicious" he said sincerely, throwing a glance at Ava, who smiled cordially.

"It's just ham and cheese."

"Well, Kevin, since Caleb here seems to be rightly exhausted, would you mind if he occupied the couch? I think I've got an air mattress somewhere for you, just in case."

"Yeah, sure, it's cool" Carlisle said. He looked so happy it was almost abnormal.

"Alright. Devil, you know where the spare is."

Devil nodded, and Boyd clapped him on the back on his way out of the kitchen. Ava was almost falling asleep herself, and Devil told her to go to bed.

"We're good here. Jus' go to sleep, huh?"

"A'right then. Put the plates in the sink, would you? See you tomorrow."

Caleb was dragging himself over to the couch, and Carlisle was busy blowing up his air mattress that Boyd had given to him before going upstairs, as Ava halted in the kitchen door and turned.

"It's good you're back, y'know" she said. "Johnny's in over his head, and Boyd would never tell you this, but I think he feels a little guilty he sent you off like that."

Devil shrugged. "Well, I'm back now."

"Yeah, you are."

She left without saying good night, but he didn't say it, either. They agreed in not always agreeing with each other, and Devil knew he'd screwed up big time six months ago, so Boyd had had a valid reason for sending him away and really did not need to feel guilty about it at all, and Ava probably agreed with Devil on that at least. Her telling him it was good to have him back, though, and her hug, that really surprised Devil. Where her hospitality towards him had suddenly come from, he could not say. But maybe it was just like what she'd said – that Boyd felt guilty and Johnny was screwing things up. It wasn't unlikely. Johnny wasn't dumb, but he had the worst people skills Devil had ever seen, and he had sounded so weird on the phone back when he had told Devil that Boyd was arrested for the murder of Colton Rhodes. He'd sounded appropriately worried. But not as worried as Devil would have expected him to. Something had been off about that whole conversation. Not to mention Devil still could not shake the animosity of knowing he had confided in Johnny, and then Johnny had ran off and ratted him out to Boyd.

It might have been the right thing to do. Devil sure as hell knew he would have done the same thing. But he still could not get over how readily Johnny had ratted him out, just like that.

But perhaps, Devil thought, this was just Ava's own way of saying, "I don't really like you much, but maybe I kinda missed you."

The thought made him smirk. Maybe he'd kind of missed her, too.

An especially brutal gust of wind threw rain against the window. Devil put the plates into the sink as he had been asked, more out of habit since Nina had always asked him to do it, too. He switched off the light, fully planning to go to the bathroom and then lie down and try to sleep in the spare room, but he stopped, looking out the window.

Outside it was cold and raining and stormy. Inside, though, it was good. The kitchen smelled homey. The house was warmer. It felt like a safe haven. Devil felt at home.

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><p>He sat in his big, beautiful house and wondered. He'd ceased hoping she was still alive after months of futile search.<p>

When her car was found, he'd first thought that maybe she had had to go into hiding; the girl was a business woman like no other, and he knew she'd been in contact with a lot of dangerous people, always having her own way, never taking no for an answer, regardless of potential consequences. That was one of the reasons why he liked her so much. When the blood forensics found proved to be hers, he still believed there was a chance she had just feigned her own death to start another dangerous business in another place equally as dangerous, with acquaintances equally as dangerous as the Dixie Mafia. Her business worked everywhere, because it had takers everywhere.

But after a month of silence on her part, he doubted himself. She would have never disappeared without telling HIM where she went. No email, no letter, no message through a middleman. Nothing. It was not normal, and he knew it.

A month turned into two months, two turned into three, and eventually he became sure she was dead. The body was never found, but he had heard enough to know the Dixie Mafia had people at their disposal who were far from amateurish when it came to covering up murders, hiding bodies, covering tracks. His occupation merged from waiting for her to contact him and looking for her into finding out what she had been up to in the last year, who she had been bargaining with, trying to understand who could have had the opportunity to kill her. He did not need to ask for a motive. Everybody had one of those in her milieu. Or several.

After narrowing down the potential set of candidates to no more than twenty people, he sent out henchmen to ask around, dig deeper, to find out who might be the most angry, the most inclined to kill. All of them would have resorted to violence at some point.

In the end he made the right conclusions. He had finally found the right address.

He downed his remains of Whiskey Sour and stared at the empty wall across from him, seeing only one name and the face to go with it.

Wynn Duffy, he thought. I'm gonna pay you a visit soon.


	2. Chapter 2

Here comes the second chapter. Y'know, there is the slight possibility, since I've only got the four first chapters done, that at some point I might have to go back to those four chapters and change something. Minor details. In that case, I'd have to re-upload the whole deal, but hey, that's the way it is.

I don't think this chapter needs much setting-up. Devil's back, Johnny's pissed, and there's a small parallel to the actual season 4. I did let it inspire me just a little.

No warnings. (I KNOW. I'm shocked, too.)

Have fun!

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><p>The Penny in the Parking Lot: Part 3<p>

The One with the Match

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><p>Chapter 2<p>

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><p>The sound of music woke Devil up from a dreamless sleep. Carl Perkins was declaring himself "Forever Yours", muffled by a few walls, and for a couple of seconds Devil wondered why Nina was suddenly listening to country classics when she'd always appeared to be more partial to popular music. He opened his eyes and had no idea where he was. It took him some time to understand that he was back in Harlan.<p>

Devil sat up and rubbed at his eyes vigorously, trying to clear his mind. He'd carelessly dropped his duffel bag and the clothes of last night in a big heap on the ground, too tired to do much else. His feet were still clad in socks, and he realized that he was freezing in his underpants and wifebeater. Shivering, he wanted to get up to at least pull on some pants, but a wave of dizziness made him stop short once he was standing upright. Spending too many nights awake didn't exactly do wonders for your health, Devil reckoned and took a few deep breaths. He really needed coffee and a shower.

Ava was scrambling eggs and frying bacon, ever so slightly swaying her hips to the radio. When Devil entered the kitchen, Johnny Cash sang "Come in Stranger", and it could have made him laugh. Ava saw him stand in the door and smiled.

"Come in, stranger, I know you're weary from all the miles" she sang along, hopelessly missing the low tones, and now Devil actually had to laugh.

"Mornin', stranger" Ava said, grinning. "Y'know, I hate to tell you, but you look like shit."

"Feel like shit, too." He ran a hand through his messy hair, messing it up even more. "I'm startin' to think I spend too many nights drivin' from A to B stead of just… sleepin'."

"Gettin' too old for this stuff, huh? Yeah, I know how that feels. Sit down, I'mma get some coffee into ya. Want breakfast?"

Devil really was not hungry at all, so he declined the eggs and nibbled at a piece of toast, remembering Nina's (and Keegan's) insistence that breakfast was important.

"Where's Boyd at?" he asked after his first cup of coffee was starting its magic effects and he began to think straight again.

"Oh, he's outside with your two friends, he wanted to re-park your truck, it was too close to the street, and now I guess they're talkin'." She threw a look across the house to the front door. "Those are nice people you brought back with you."

"They're alright."

"Kevin's adorable."

"He's stupid, but in a good way" Devil said. "Saved my ass when some assholes mugged me at a gas station."

"Mugged you?"

"Yeah, well, they wanted to steal my car, and we know that didn't work out, but they sorta outnumbered me, and I didn't have a baseball bat at hand, either…"

"Baseball bat?" Ava looked taken aback.

"It was fine. Like I said, Carlisle saved my ass." Devil shrugged.

"Alright." Ava put the dishes away and sat herself across from him at the kitchen table.

"And what's Caleb's story?"

Devil raised an eye brow. "Story?"

Ava sighed. "Y'know what I mean, Devil. What happened to him? He's so scared of us, and I just wanna understand why. I wanna help him. From what Boyd told me, he's on the run from some very dangerous people. Is that true?"

"They ain't never gonna be lookin' for him here, believe me. I wouldn't have brought him here if I thought we're gonna get in trouble-"

"But what did he do to be on the run now?"

"You wanna know, you ask him yourself. He might tell you, or he might not. All I can say, he's been through some shitty stuff, and he ain't gonna kill anyone…" Devil frowned.

"What is it?"

"I really need a shower."

"Help yourself" Ava said, looking confused.

"And then I'mma need to talk to Boyd" Devil said over his shoulder.

"Yeah. Boyd and I need to talk to you anyways."

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><p>They ended up sitting around a table at Audrey's at noon. Devil wasn't sure why exactly Boyd and Ava had chosen this place for a meeting that was supposed to be secret, and that was one of the first questions he needed to ask. Jimmy and Johnny were present, too, and a silent kid with a lot of black hair, who hunched in on himself and looked nobody in the eyes except for Boyd, and sometimes Ava. Boyd and Ava were smiling at him, and Johnny and Jimmy were scowling.<p>

"Why exactly are we at Audrey's again?"

"I'm sorry, Devil, I do apologize. I completely neglected to tell you-"

"Tell me what?"

"We own it now" Ava said.

"Own what?" Devil was not following.

"Audrey's" Ava specified.

"What d'you mean, you own Audrey's…? What happened to the guy… Desmond… what was his name again?"

"I believe his name was Delroy" Boyd answered with a still face.

"Right, Delroy. Where'd he go?"

"You can't tell what you don't know, son." Boyd and Ava exchanged a look that made Devil certain she had something to do with this. Devil scratched his chin and didn't even try to hide his surprise.

"Well, alright. Jesus. Lots of shit's gone on here, huh."

Johnny's scowl deepened even more. Devil was starting to think this was his basic setting expression nowadays: scowling. He tried to remember what Johnny had looked like six months ago, and came up empty. Johnny was walking again, that much was new. He'd limped into the room followed by Jimmy and the silent hairy kid, leaning heavily on a cane, but he was walking, and when Devil asked him since when he was doing that again, Johnny had not even answered him.

"So. Anythin' else of this level of importance I missed, that you wanna tell me now? 'fore it comes up later?"

"What I'm apparently missin'" Jimmy chimed in, "is why this traitor is sittin' here and we're just welcomin' him back with open arms."

"Brilliant." Devil sighed. There the word was again. TRAITOR. "Boyd, come on, dude. You didn't tell him?"

"There were only four people who knew, Devil, and those were me, Ava, Johnny and Arlo. I thought that was enough."

"Yeah, totally enough, Boyd."

"Knew what? What the fuck ain't you tellin' me?" Jimmy looked tense and angry, and the silent kid just seemed like there was a giant question mark hovering above his head.

"For God's sake, are you really that dim?" Johnny barked. "Devil's not really a goddamned traitor, he just pretended so he could fuckin' infiltrate the fuckin' Dixie Mafia!"

"You serious?" Jimmy made big eyes. Devil had to grant him that he looked apologetic almost instantly. "You really did that?"

"Yeah." Devil shrugged.

"Shit, man. Wow. Like… why didn't you tell me? I was like pretty much the only one who didn't know about it!"

"You can't tell what you don't know" Devil quoted Boyd's words from before.

"I wouldn't have told. Who would I've told?"

"No need to take the risk. Anyway, it's good to see you, man."

"Yeah, you too. I can't believe I missed that."

Devil snorted. "Apparently, it's real easy to miss things. I'm jus' findin' that out right now. Like, for example: who's this?" He pointed at the silent kid.

"He's the young man I believe I talked to you about on the phone a while back" Boyd answered.

"Boyd, no offense, but you talk about a lot of things."

Boyd laughed. "That I do, as a matter of fact, Devil, I apologize. This is Daniel Duris. Daniel, this is Derek Lennox."

"'lo" Danny mumbled.

"I met him at a bookstore in Tennessee."

"Whatever." Devil looked around. "Where's Caleb and Calisle?"

"I showed them to their respective accommodations on the property. They didn't seem to mind sharin' their space."

"Nah, they been doin' that for the last couple months, and if Caleb ain't gone mad so far, I think they're gonna get along okay."

"Gone mad?" Jimmy asked.

"Well, Carlisle's a bit dumb, but honestly, he's a good guy."

"With a rather firm handshake" Boyd added.

"You can say that again."

"That bein' said, I told 'em to go on and get familiar with the estate, because the things we need to talk about, it's not imperative they hear these right at this moment. I'll tell 'em about their occupations later, and you are welcome to join me then, Devil. What we need to talk over now, though" and Boyd put a flat hand on the table, "is what YOU are gonna be doin' now."

"Alright" Devil said.

"There are several things I need to explain prior to that. What we are concentratin' on nowadays, as you must have noticed given our newly acquired property, is prostitution. It's a good business, and it's runnin' well."

Devil nodded. He'd gotten his fair share of impressions concerning the whore business, and he was not keen on actively being a part of that.

"You treatin' 'em whores okay?"

Johnny scoffed. "What d'you mean?"

Devil threw him a sharp look. "Brother, I've seen a bit too much the last six months, so sorry if I don't wanna get paid for beatin' on strumpets."

Boyd was looking concerned. "What exactly did you see, son?"

"Like I said, too much. Think the Dixie Mafia don't deal with this?"

Johnny wanted to say something, but Boyd lifted a placating hand. "It's understood" he said. "I do think we can reassure you, now can't we, Ava."

"Them girls don't get beaten, not on my watch" Ava nodded. "They are humans, after all, plus bruises could be bad for business."

That I doubt, Devil thought.

"But while we are talkin' bout treatment of the ladies, there are johns who don't seem to agree with the no-beatin' policy we've got, and those need to be put in their place. If it happens too often, they ain't gonna be accepted as customers here any more."

Devil was relieved. That he could live with. "Sounds fair."

"Doesn't it. The other thing we are makin' our money with is protection, and sellin' weed. Since the Bennetts are dead and gone, we have a monopoly on protection, and it feeds well; the weed sellin', well, there are lots of other suppliers who grow it in their own backyards and try to merchandize it in secrecy, but whenever we catch someone sellin' weed, we stop it. You hear me? I want to try and achieve a monopoly in the weed business, as well, and not just in Harlan."

"So you wanna shut off all private weed plantations in Harlan County?" Devil asked. "That's gon' take some doin'."

"Exactly. And I've been thinkin' about how to achieve that, and me an' Ava had an idea of how we could try and connect the weed business with the protection, so that we wouldn't have to actually shut OFF the private plantations, I'd just put my name on the tag, so to speak. You understand where I'm comin' from?"

"Pretty much. What about Oxy?"

"The numbers are good. Quarles did his best in destroyin' my oxy distribution, but I find it redundant to mention he didn't succeed."

"What did you do while you were in Frankfort?" Ava wanted to know. "I mean, when you were 'workin' for' Quarles. How'd that work?"

"Well, I'd go to his office, he had this little place set up in some buildin', and he'd tell me what to do, where to go. You ain't told 'em that, either?" He frowned at Boyd.

"He sure as hell didn't tell ME anythin'" Jimmy said.

"Boyd wasn't exactly forthcomin' with info on how you were doin'" Ava explained. "I guess it was for security or somethin' like that."

"It was."

"I didn't exactly do extraordinary shit for him, y'know" Devil said. "Nothin' spectacular. Beat up people. Collect money. Steal shit. That kinda stuff."

Boyd, the only one aware of the two Scandinavians that let their lives at Devil's hand, did nothing to correct him. It was a blatant lie, but not one Devil felt comfortable discussing while still in the company of Jimmy and that silent kid named Daniel.

"Mainly, Devil, what I would like for you to do is this: the dispatching is as follows. Ava and Johnny are holdin' the fort here at Audrey's, and Jimmy and Danny and I are mostly keepin' the bar goin'. Both departments definitely need some aid, and I'm glad you not only returned, but that you also brought company with you, and I'm positive the presence of Kevin and Caleb will be much appreciated. But, Audrey's is where the sales boom, and I need you here. Devil, will you be okay with that?" Boyd gave him an inquiring look. "What d'you think?"

Devil shrugged. "Sounds good. Business as usual, I guess."

"Are you certain?"

"Well, yeah, if I weren't I wouldn't have said so" Devil snapped. He knew pretty well why Boyd was asking him this. He was still angry with himself for slipping up earlier – all that talk about whores brought up unpleasant memories. But this wasn't Elizabethtown, nor was it Frankfort. This was Harlan. This was home. He could deal with it.

Boyd held his gaze for another two seconds before he appeared to believe Devil. He nodded. "Then I guess it's decided."

"Wait a minute, Boyd!" Johnny spoke up. If that was even possible his frown had deepened further. "Why ain't you askin' me about this? What do we need him at Audrey's for? Ava and I've got it covered!"

Ava scoffed, and Devil raised an unbelieving eyebrow. If Boyd said help was needed, it most certainly was.

"Cousin Johnny, I understand your objection, but I'm afraid it ain't no valid one" Boyd said, slowly. "You and I both know two people can't run that show, and you scare people off."

"With what? My cane?"

"With your behavior."

"That's ridiculous."

"Cousin Johnny, I think all the people present at this table can agree that your social skills ain't exactly the cream of the crop. Not to mention you ain't got the means to speed from one place to another, and while we're all aware you can hardly be blamed for that, it's a necessity to be mobile. Plus, Devil already mentioned he made his experiences with the business side of prostitution in Frankfort and we can only benefit from these. If you do got any valid protests, please go on and let me know. If not, I would like to continue this conversation and steer it into a more prolific direction."

Johnny shut his mouth, and Devil could see anger sizzling behind his eyes. Then he shrugged. "Well, you might be right, Boyd. Gotta get used to Devil bein' round again."

He scrutinized Devil, and Devil scrutinized him back, not sure whether to believe his complete turn-around. The entire conversation sure earned Johnny a few strange looks from Jimmy and Ava.

"Fair enough" Devil eventually said. "S'been a while."

"Sure has" Johnny said.

"Now" Boyd said, "for the next part, I'll have to ask you two" and he gestured to Jimmy and Danny, "to leave, I'm sorry, but this is just meant for the four of us."

"Aw, come on" Jimmy said. Danny didn't show any reaction, he just stood up and left.

"I wanna be all in, Boyd" Jimmy objected. "I thought I already was!"

"It's private, Jim, I know it's rude, but it is what it is." Boyd gave him a pointed look, and Jimmy pulled back, grumbling along the way.

"Guess you wanna go a bit more into detail bout Frankfort now" Devil said, and Boyd nodded.

"Exactly. The boys don't need to hear about the people you met, the relationships you formed."

Devil sighed. He started explaining, then; about Baljakov, and Bourgignon, and the Baron, Bernard Trust (all of those names Boyd had never heard before, and he sucked up the information like a sponge), and Devil also talked about Keegan (his most valuable contact, when Devil really thought about it) and the CAG flat-structure of the Dixie Mafia. He mentioned the shady establishment in Crestwood where you could borrow nondescript cars, and the bazaar near Fort Knox; and he rushed to add they might want to keep it under tight wraps that they had Caleb working here because Baljakov was probably looking for him.

"And I met a girl there."

Ava looked surprised, and Johnny snorted, disbelieving, but Boyd nodded understandingly.

"You know, I'd already wondered whether you might."

"Her name's Nina. She, ah, she's a secretary for some company in Louisville, but she's livin' in Frankfort. Just thought you should know."

"So she ain't got no idea what you're doin'?" Ava inquired.

"Well, she does. A little. I had to… explain a few things to her at some point."

"How many things?" Johnny asked. Devil looked at the floor.

"A few."

"Meaning?"

"A few things means a few things, Johnny, come on. I needed to explain why I was… why I was away these crazy hours and shit, and where I got the money from and why somebody tried to slice me open like a goddamn fish!"

Ava stared at him wide-eyed. "Sliced you open? Boyd, you never mentioned that!"

"I didn't see the need to mention it because Devil never gave me the impression it was that bad."

"It weren't bad at all, I said he tried to, not that he'd succeeded. M'fine. Just, I guess you can imagine I needed to explain that to Nina, and I'm keepin' her out of it, all of it, she don't even know any of your names, 'cept for you, Boyd, and she only knows that much cause she listened in on one of our talks on the phone." Devil rubbed his eyes.

"I just wanted to tell you so you ain't gonna wonder what the hell I'm doin' when I'm goin' back up to Frankfort to visit her."

"So it's serious" Ava said and gave him a knowing look.

"Whatever. Anythin' else you need to know, Boyd?"

"Well, I believe that about covers it. There is only one question left to ask."

"What?"

"I wanna know how you're doin', Devil, and I need you to tell me the truth." Devil looked Boyd in the face and knew what he wanted to know. Devil didn't know what Boyd had really told Ava and Johnny, if they even knew he'd also worked for Duffy. He sighed.

"M'fine. Really. I'm glad to be home again. An' I'm okay to stay here at Audrey's for now. I do know how to sell weed and stuff. There's just one thing I really… how much did you tell 'em about Frankfort?" He shot Boyd an evaluating look.

"Not much."

"Did you tell 'em bout… Duffy?"

"Wynn Duffy?" Ava and Johnny said in sync.

"I didn't tell 'em nothin' at all" Boyd offered superfluously. Devil nodded, relieved.

"What the fuck do you have to do with Wynn Duffy?" Johnny asked, anxious. Ava looked troubled, as well. Devil was confused.

"Dunno" he said. "What do YOU guys have to do with him?"

"Nothin', cept that he tried to blow Boyd up" Johnny snapped.

"Wait, what? I thought he tried to blow up Quarles?"

"Well, that was his aim, but he would not have minded if I'd ended up as collateral damage" Boyd said. "It don't matter now. I didn't tell Ava or Johnny a thing. If you wish for it to stay that way, it will, naturally."

"Thanks, Boyd."

"D'you wanna talk about it in private?"

Devil gnawed on his lip. His leg was twitching, but he couldn't help it. "If you don't mind. Maybe."

"Alright then." Boyd clapped his hands together. "Ava, Johnny, I'mma have to ask you to leave, as well. The followin' is a matter only between Devil and I."

"And Duffy, apparently."

"I'm sorry, cousin Johnny, but I ain't gonna ask again. Go ahead now."

"This is some messed-up shit right there" Johnny said while fighting into a standing position. "He's not even back twelve hours and you practically give him my job, and now he's apparently got some shit goin' on with Wynn Duffy, of all people, and you know about it and wanna keep it a secret from Ava and me. What the hell, Boyd?"

"Cousin Johnny, you're gonna have to trust me on this. If Devil ever feels like lettin' you in on it, he's free to do so, and you're free to ask, but don't expect me to tell you what's not in my place to tell."

"Johnny, come on." Ava put a hand on his arm. "Boyd knows what he's doin'. You do know what you're doin', right?"

"I most certainly do, baby. No need to worry. It's just a private matter."

Ava looked at Devil. "And you're really doin' fine?"

"Yeah."

"Okay then. Johnny, come on."

* * *

><p>They left, albeit reluctantly. When they were alone in the patron area, Devil sighed.<p>

"Thing is, Boyd. I never exactly told you how I did the job for Duffy. Or what other shit Duffy wanted me to do. Or what it did to me."

Boyd raised an expecting eye brow. "So you lied when you said you were doin' fine."

"No, no. I didn't lie, I swear it to you, Boyd. I AM okay. I jus' don't think I can kill anyone again."

Boyd halted in his thoughts. He was reminded of the last night, of reminiscing about old times, and it seemed Devil had come to a point where he valued life too much to take it. If anything, now Boyd was almost glad to hear it.

He had always wondered how Devil did it, anyway, killing without losing that value. It had to be emotionally tiring, and it was bound to get you into a state of severe conflict with yourself. Boyd had met a lot of great men in Kuwait who were reduced to a blubbering mess at the prospect of killing, and they were sent home with a Section 8 never to be seen again; and then there were those who killed without batting an eye, and Boyd understood how they did that: by creating an it. Margaret Atwood had brought it quite to the point when she said that you had to create an it where none was before, first in your head, and then you made it real. Boyd had seen men think they could manage, only to find out they did not. They did not get sent home, though. Some of them died. Some of them killed themselves. Some survived, but only barely. Boyd scrutinized Devil and came to the conclusion that Devil belonged to the latter group. It had to be this Nina girl who made sure he survived.

"That is fine with me, Devil" Boyd said. "It's completely fine."

* * *

><p>"So. You wanna explain to me why you came all the way up here to disturb my lunch time, Mr. Crowder? Or are you just gonna sit there and look stupid?"<p>

Johnny Crowder looked angry, but Wynn Duffy was thoroughly unimpressed. He'd just had Mike serve him some fine green curry chicken from the best Thai restaurant in Lexington, and he was so ready to enjoy it; Mike had even put on his favorite blues music. And then suddenly someone knocked on the door.

Wynn sighed. At least it wasn't the Marshal.

"Well?"

"I wanna ask you somethin'" Johnny Crowder said. "No, I wanna offer you a deal."

"And what kind of deal would that be?"

Wynn shoveled some food into his mouth. He would have preferred enjoying it, but before he let it go to waste, this would have to do.

"Well, you might have noticed that Boyd's kinda big in Harlan County now, and that if you ever wanna make money there, you'd have to either work with him or get him-"

"Who EVER gave you the idea I'd want to establish myself in that shithole county?" Crowder looked offended, and Wynn shrugged. "I'm sorry, but seriously. Why would you think that? Quarles was the only reason I was down there in the first place, as far as I know. He had the big plans with Oxy. I have no interest in it."

"But you should. Maybe Quarles wasn't as crazy as you think."

"Oh, trust me when I say I know him better than that."

"Maybe so, but the idea ain't crazy. You could make some serious money down there. You'd just have to work it out with Boyd."

"So am I understanding this correctly – Boyd Crowder sent you here so you could convince me to work together with him?"

"No, no, no." Crowder leaned forward. "You don't let me finish. I wanted to suggest you work with ME."

"I'm sorry?"

"You and me, WE could work together and get a whole lot more out of it than-"

"And how would that work out? Why wouldn't Boyd Crowder wanna work with me again?"

Johnny waved an impatient hand. "Cause he hates you. You tried to blow him up and stuff? Remember?"

"Right. I do remember. Why is it exactly, then, that he hates me, but you don't? Usually I found Boyd Crowder's men a lot more loyal than that."

"Maybe that's because I wouldn't have been that sad to actually see him go up in flames."

Wynn Duffy put down his half empty dish. "Now the conversation is getting me interested. Go on."

"I might have a few reasons to want Boyd out of the picture. And if Boyd WAS out of the picture, you and me, we could work something out. We'd run Harlan County, shit, maybe at some point we'd run the surrounding counties, too, I think with your infrastructure and my connections down there… I dunno. We could pull this off."

"But Boyd would need to be 'out of the picture' for that, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Well then" Wynn said, "off him."

"But-"

"If your cousin is all that's standing in our way of making this happen, this oxycodon utopia that you've just invented, off him and we're good to go."

Crowder was hesitating, and Wynn grinned, shaking his head. There, he thought. Why am I not surprised. Whatever this man was thinking he could do, it was so limited, and so incredibly infantile, Wynn felt entirely unable to take him seriously. There he sat, with his cane lying on the floor, emanating delusions of grandeur, and now he was even planning on murdering his greatest supporter.

"Uhm, that's kind of why I'm here to talk to you" Johnny Crowder eventually said. "I wanted to ask you to do that."

"Do what?"

"Off him."

"Wait, wait, WAIT a second" Wynn said. "You want ME to kill Boyd for you? You – let me recap this, just to make sure I didn't get this wrong. You come here, annoy me while I'm trying to have lunch, tell me about your visions of us working together, and then you, you, the one who had this ridiculous idea in the first place, you have the balls to tell ME to kill Crowder so we can make it happen? Excuse me, but have you turned completely and utterly retarded?"

"No, wh-"

"This is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."

"Duffy-"

"Mike, get this moron the fuck out of my motor coach. I'm trying to eat Geng Kheaw Wan Gai here."

"Think about it" Johnny said while Mike pulled him to his feet and started dragging him to the door. "With Boyd gone, life would-"

"Did you know really good Thai food costs about twenty-five dollars per serving? I'm not gonna let that go cold. Goodbye, Mr. Crowder."

Mike shut the door and looked at him questioningly. "What d'you think this was all about?"

"Don't know, don't care. If these redneck morons wanna kill themselves, let them do it. That's what I think. Crank up the music, please."

Wynn was not rightly sure what Johnny Crowder was up to, but he knew on good authority that Devil Lennox had returned to Harlan the day before, and he could not help but suspect that had something, anything, to do with it.

* * *

><p>I just love writing dialogue for Wynn Duffy. I just love him. Maybe even more than Boyd. Who knows. (I haven't even seen all of season 5 yet, can you believe it? So much shit has been going on.)<p>

The quote by Margaret Atwood is from "The Handmaid's Tale".


	3. Chapter 3

I apologize for being behind on the postings. Well, there were the holidays, and they invited me to be incredibly lazy, so, yeah. I'm sure you know what I mean.

Ellen May has a short appearance in this one, as well as Shelby. Both of them will be unimportant in this story since I'm completely ignoring the Drew Thompson storyline. Hence, Ellen May is still a prostitute working at Audrey's, Shelby is still Shelby, and they'll stay that way for the foreseeable future.

Warning: Nightmarish images, hints at child abuse.

Have fun.

* * *

><p>The Penny in the Parking Lot: Part 3<p>

The One with the Match

* * *

><p>Chapter 3<p>

* * *

><p>The second morning back in Harlan started slow; Devil slept almost until noon, and the house was empty when he descended the stairs. He switched the radio on and made himself some coffee. He had had a weird dream last night, about a woman in a blue dress who had lain down in her closet. Devil had looked at it all from the perspective of an invisible observer, and he remembered thinking, "it starts and it ends with this", whatever that was supposed to mean. Devil yawned and sipped his coffee. He had fucking strange dreams sometimes.<p>

Johnny limped inside and shot him an angry look.

"Where's Ava and Boyd?"

Devil shrugged. "No idea. I just got up. Where you been?"

"Go to hell" Johnny snapped and left the house again, leaving Devil wondering what about the question of his whereabouts warranted such an answer.

After showering, Devil got into his 4runner and drove to Audrey's, figuring he would be wanted there. Ava stood behind the counter, serving drinks to some lowlives that Devil knew he had seen somewhere before. She smiled at him.

"Up already?"

"Uhuh."

"Well then. Johnny's just gotten here, too, he can show you around…"

"Meh. Apparently, I done somethin' to him, he's in a shitty mood. I've been to Audrey's before, y'know. I can show myself around."

"Alright then. Go by the trailers, we collect the cash from the girls every night, you need to know 'em all, get familiar with their trailers and hidin' spaces."

"What, you don't trust 'em?"

"Trust and verify" Ava said. "You want a drink, feel free."

"Thanks."

Devil wandered about the Audrey's compound and felt reminded of some nights after Ida when he'd been too lonely to stand it and had come here for company and messy sex. After the shit he had seen, he wasn't sure this still appealed to him – especially now that Nina was in his life. Some of the whores looked hot, no doubt about it, but they weren't Nina and that somehow took something away from their hotness, making Devil sure he was in love for the first time in what seemed like an eternity.

It was cold, but sunny, and Audrey's still looked like it always had. Time changed, tides changed, but Audrey's still pretty much looked the same, no matter who owned it: Nicky Cush, that Desmond guy, or Ava. Devil didn't naturally believe women to be more able to run a business, but with this one, he thought Ava might just be the right choice.

The door of one of the trailers opened, and a fat guy in a half undone lumberjack shirt stumbled out. The whore stood at the door and waved, looking disoriented, smiling brightly, obviously high.

"See ya, Ellen May!" the lumberjack shouted. Ellen May giggled.

"Bye, Jacksy…"

Ellen May's clouded eyes fell on Devil. She frowned.

"D'I know you? Y'look so familiar."

"Ellen May" Devil said. He knew her, he'd met her a few times at Audrey's. Mostly though, he knew her through tales from Dewey.

"Yeah, we met before."

"When?" Ellen May still looked like she was thinking hard, swaying on her feet a little unsteadily.

"Some time ago. The name you's lookin' for is Devil."

"Oh, right! Devil! Hey." She grinned at him. "Ain't you a friend of Dewey?"

"Friend's pushin' it. I know him, through Boyd."

"Boyd owns this place now, y'know. I mean, technically, Ava does, because she's the one, did 'way with… uh. Nothin'."

"Alright." Devil raised a brow.

"You been away long time. Everybody thought you dead."

"Did they really?"

"Uhuh." Ellen May nodded emphatically.

"Well, looks like I ain't dead, so. I did some shit for Boyd, and now I'm back, y'know, lookin' for work."

"Did y'find any?"

"Yeah. I'm workin' here now. Y'know, aidin' Ava in keepin' this place from goin' to shit."

"Oh! That's nice" Ellen May said. "We could see each other more often, have a coffee or somethin'. Talk. What normal people do."

"Sounds good. Uh, can I get a look at your trailer? Ava said I need to know 'em."

"Sure! Come in. Feel at home." Ellen May giggled again. Her hair looked like it hadn't been combed in a while and her make-up was smudgy, but at least, Devil thought, she wasn't covered in bruises and afraid of anything with a penis. Small mercies, Devil thought as he entered her shaded trailer and let himself be shown where Ellen May stowed her money.

* * *

><p>The air was crispy cold and the sky was clouded as Raylan Givens drove back to Lexington, but he had rolled the driver's side window down all the way and let the harsh wind blow around his nose until he couldn't feel it anymore. He did understand why Winona had decided on a gynecologist in Louisville, the practice was situated quite close to Gayle's place.<p>

What he did not understand, though, was why Winona got so mad and impatient when he was twenty minutes late. It was a ninety-minute-drive from the office when there was NO traffic, and Raylan had shitloads of work to do, and he couldn't memorize the name of the street, for some goddamned reason, so it always took him another ten minutes to find the goddamned practice that was hidden in some small alley.

When Raylan arrived today, out of breath and already pissed with himself and the practice and the FBI for thinking they could just barge into the US Marshals office any time they felt like it and ask for some support on a case that looked easy as pie, the checkup had already been done. The baby was fine, Winona told him with clenched teeth, but her iron level was too low and she needed to take pills to even it out. When Raylan asked if he could take her home, she denied.

"Gayle's pickin' me up. I texted her when you didn't show."

"Well, I'm here now" Raylan had snapped. "I can take you home now."

Winona had rolled her eyes, in that contemptuous way that she displayed more and more often as the pregnancy progressed. "She's already on her way. I'm not callin' her now to tell her you did decide to show up just so you could drive me home for ten minutes of lousy excuses for why you couldn't make it on time. Again."

"Winona-"

"It's alright, Raylan." She had rubbed her forehead, looking very tired all of a sudden. "I don't wanna fight. We can't change it now. Jus'… it was nice to see you anyways."

And then she had left and Raylan had stood there feeling like the biggest asshole on the planet for a few seconds. How she always managed to make him feel like this, he didn't know. The cool wind in his car now could do little to cool his temper. Three hours of driving to Louisville and back for shit, he thought. This day could not get any better.

His cell phone rang, and Raylan sighed. There, he had to go and jinx it; this could not be a good call.

"Givens?"

"Hello there, Raylan, glad I could reach you."

Raylan frowned. "Shelby?"

"One and the same."

"Well! How's it goin' down there in your neck of the woods?"

"There's somethin' I just thought you should know."

I knew it, Raylan thought. "And what's that?"

"Well." Sherriff Shelby sighed. "'Member last year when that thug of Boyd's disappeared, in the summer? Derek Lennox, more commonly known as Devil?"

"Yeah, sure, I remember. I asked Boyd about it, too."

"He's back now."

"What? Back? How back?"

"An ally of mine who's keepin' a close look on Audrey's since Boyd seems to have taken it over has seen him roam around there yesterday. Seems like Devil's returned to Harlan."

"Huh. And I was so sure he's dead."

"You ain't the only one, Raylan. That's what I wanted to tell you. Just thought you should know."

"Yeah, I should. Thanks a lot, Shelby."

"Don't mention it. Have a good one, Raylan."

"You too. Bye."

Raylan hung up and threw his cell phone on the empty passenger's seat. So Devil wasn't dead. Had Boyd actually told the truth for once? And if he had, what business was it that Devil had taken care of for him? Questions, questions, Raylan thought. Well, he had plenty of time to find answers.

He rolled up the window. The cold finally got to him.

* * *

><p>"Well, did you like my present? It's been months, you never said. …I know you didn't, I just thought you might like them. …don't worry about that… no, really, there's nothing for you to worry about, dear. …because I couldn't. I had someone trustworthy send them over. … yes, quite the peculiar name, don't you think? – Not now, Mike, I'm on the phone."<p>

"But, Sir-"

"Not now. – What? Oh, I'm really glad to hear that. … Oh, I don't know, it just came to me, and I knew where I could purchase them for a good – Mike, what is it, I'm on the phone, for God's sake! I'm sure it can wait."

"But, Mr. Duffy-"

"Good God. Hold on a minute there, dear. – What is it?"

"Sir, word's out on the street someone's lookin' for you."

"Wouldn't be the first time. Why the fuck would that be more important than-"

"Wynn. I'm sorry, but sounds like this might be somethin' serious. You might wanna-"

"Do we know who this is?"

"No, no names yet, jus' that it's an older guy and he's seriously pissed off at you."

"Well, that wouldn't be the first time, either. Alright then, uhm. Keep an ear out, keep your eyes open, shoot anything that moves, you know the drill, Mike. Now, if you don't mind. – Still there, dear? … nothing important. So, how'd you like the thing from Auster? … I know, he's a bit depressing, but it's supposed to be a classic."

* * *

><p>There were a lot of things that Devil had missed about Harlan, but he didn't realize the silence of the night was one of those until he slept undisturbed and woke up at 6 am to the sound of virtually nothing. Dawn hadn't even broken yet, and it was so quiet his breathing seemed awfully loud. In Frankfort he'd lived right in the city, next to busy streets, and he had gotten used to a steady background noise of cars and voices. One memorable night, briefly after he had moved in with Nina, there had been a shootout a few blocks away, and Devil had woken up with a start, half-inclined to grab his Beretta until he understood the shots fired were far away. Nina had slept through it all without twitching.<p>

Now night had fallen and him, Boyd, Jimmy and the silent kid (Daniel, he reminded himself) were sitting on the porch, nursing a beer. It was chilly, but bearable, considering they'd all dressed accordingly, and Devil enjoyed the peace and quiet more than he would have ever thought. He just wasn't made for the big city.

"How'd you like it so far, Devil, my friend? Has returnin' met your expectations?" Boyd asked, giving him a level look.

"Sure." Devil shrugged. "So far, so good. I mean, it's only been two days."

"Of course." Boyd seemed satisfied with his answer and leaned back, relaxed.

"Hey, where's Johnny at?"

"He's probably with his 'girlfriend'" Jimmy said and grinned. Devil frowned at his emphasis on the word 'girlfriend'.

"So he found a girl? Good for him, right?"

Jimmy grinned wider. "Sure, GOOD for him."

"Okay, what am I missin'?"

"He's 'dating' one of 'em whores from Audrey's" Jimmy explained and shook his head. "Must be love, I guess."

Devil snorted. And Johnny hadn't even believed him when he'd said he found a girl in Frankfort. "Yeah, must be. Cheers."

"Cheers" Jimmy said and raised his beer before taking a sip.

"Which one is it?"

"Teri."

"Uh… remind me?"

"Blonde, skinny, nice face?"

"Frowns a lot?"

"That's the one."

"Well" Devil contemplated. "He coulda done a lot worse."

Jimmy shrugged. "Guess it can always get worse."

Devil laughed. "You can say that again."

Companionable silence settled over them again. Devil felt his feet getting cold, but he did not feel like getting up and inside just yet. They kept sitting there on the porch, chatting occasionally, finishing another two or three beers each. They all lost the feeling in their toes and fingertips before Jimmy got up and said he would head home. Devil expected Danny to do the same, but he stayed seated, silent as usual, giving Jimmy a barely perceptible nod as good-bye.

"Where're you stayin'?" Devil asked him. He honestly didn't know; in the three days Devil was back now, they had exchanged a total of about ten or fifteen words.

"Well, as for tonight, he's stayin' over" Boyd answered for Danny, and Devil frowned.

"Oh yeah? You ain't got no home?"

"Devil, may I ask you not to be impolite."

"What, Boyd, he can't speak for himself?"

"It just seems that Daniel is more the type to choose his words wisely."

"Meanin' he never talks?"

"Devil, I think it was William Shakespeare who said that men of few words are the best men."

"Boyd, you do know that totally backfired on you, right?"

Boyd laughed out loud. "Talkin' a true word, my friend, but since I never claimed to be a good man, I am sure to know my credibility not in peril."

"Whatever you're sayin', it's probably right." Devil grinned and they laughed some more.

Danny cleared his throat. "Can answer for m'self, too, just don't wanna" he mumbled. Devil shrugged.

"Fair enough." He would have liked to understand this Danny guy, but he just could not get a read on him, be it because he never talked or because he tended to hide his face behind a hat and a lot of hair.

"It ain't the first time Daniel's stayed over, so you needn't be surprised. The first few months after I'd achieved convincin' him to join my, let's say, establishment, he didn't have no place to stay, so he slept in the spare."

"Why didn't he have a place?"

"Well, see, you ain't no stranger to difficult families yourself, Devil, so I reckon I don't need to go into stark details on this."

"Oh. Well. Sorry bout that, I guess."

Danny lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug. "Nothin' doin'."

"How'd you meet again?"

"I picked him up in a bookstore in Oak Ridge, actually. Just saw him and thought, talkin' to him can't hurt, can it?" Boyd nodded, smiling slightly. "Invited young Daniel over, and we talked for a while, exchanged views on the world. He'd even heard from me before, seems my reputation does get ahead of me at times."

"Could be." Devil looked at Danny. "You did time?"

"Two years" came the quiet reply.

"Where?"

"South Central."

"Tennessee, right?"

Nod.

"Had a brother who did time there, said it was okay."

"You got a brother?"

"No, I mean, from my time with the Brotherhood" Devil explained, yawning. He stared at his beer. So Boyd had just recruited this guy from the spot? After meeting him in a bookstore of all places? And let him stay in the spare for months on end just like that? Devil didn't know what he felt was jealousy. He had had to listen to the whole mud people story and kill someone before Boyd considered him a part of the Commandoes, and the only reason he had expressed an interest at all was because of Devil's reputation. This Danny didn't have a reputation. So he had done two years in a medium security shed? It couldn't have been more than assault. Devil peeled the label from his bottle. He didn't quite know why he thought it was unfair, but it was unfair.

He didn't participate in the rest of the conversation, which really only consisted of Boyd throwing in some ridiculously long sentences from time to time and Danny saying "mh". Devil wouldn't have been able to name a specific reason, but he decided then and there that he did not like Danny.

It started raining at some point, and after a startingly loud clap of thunder Boyd sighed. "Well now, gentlemen, I think that's our clue to go on and head inside. I'm rather certain none of us are keen to get struck by lightnin', am I right?"

"Nope" Devil said. "Night." He headed directly upstairs. Across the hall, he could see the door to Ava's bedroom standing ajar, and he heard the sound of rustling sheets. She had to be sleeping already, waiting for Boyd to join her. It had to be late. Devil didn't even know what time it was. The rain had momentarily lessened, and the thunder seemed to be quieting down. Slowly Devil undressed, his bones aching from the cold. He didn't bother to turn on the lights, trusting he would find his way to the mattress.

A lot of thoughts swam through his mind when he lay down. He did not miss Nina yet – he had only been gone for three whole days. She popped into his mind occasionally, but that was it. What bothered him more was the complete turn-around his life had suffered in such a short period of time. He was sent to Frankfort to work for Quarles. He did go and do just that, and then Quarles had his arm chopped off and got thrown into prison, and then Devil had to go and work for Duffy and some other Dixie Mafia bosses. Then he took a vacation, with Nina. Had the time of his life. With Nina. And he got used to it. The easy way of living with a beautiful woman, being able to sleep in, spend time with friends, without worrying about the next job and whether it was going to work out okay.

In Frankfort he had found friends who didn't know about his life, about how he'd gotten his "Honorary Title" and how his family had gone to shit after his mom ran away. In Harlan it was general knowledge. Devil certainly did not miss Duffy, but he had known all throughout his vacation that eventually he was going to go back. Back to Harlan, back to crime.

"Did I go soft?" Devil asked himself. Another clap of thunder was the only answer he got.

His thoughts continued to swirl, making him toss and turn. He was tired, but he couldn't rest, be it because of the storm raging outside or because his worries would not let him go. At some point, his mind turned to Tanner, good old Tanner, and it made his chest feel heavy, because, Tanner might have died almost four months ago, but sometimes the pain still was fresh and piercing. Devil felt so restless that with the next loud clap of thunder, he got up and went downstairs, with the vague idea of food in his mind. He was not quite hungry, but at least it would give him something to do.

There was light in the kitchen, and Devil wondered who was still awake at this point of time. It was Danny. He just said there, being his usual quiet self. The rain had stopped, and Devil appreciated the silence. He sat himself next to Danny and they sat in silence, until Danny tapped him on his arm, and when Devil turned, it was not Danny sitting next to him in the kitchen, it was a clown and he made a grab for him, and before Devil could speak or scream he woke up with a start, panting.

Whoa there, Devil thought. Just another one of those messed up dreams he had from time to time. His heart was hammering and his hands were shaking just the slightest bit. Devil felt it rather intensely. The rain had actually stopped, or at least Devil could not hear it anymore.

What he did hear, though, was a sound, coming from the corner of his room. Devil froze in surprise. He blinked through the darkness, but he could not see a thing; he made a grab for the light switch, but it didn't work. Then there was movement, and a figure stepped in front of him, and even though just a moment ago Devil had not been able to see a thing, he immediately recognized his father.

He was not quite sure how this was possible, but Junior Lennox was the same age he had been when Devil had last seen him eighteen years ago, and Devil felt like the scrawny, terrified teenager he had been back then. His dad spoke, and he did not sound drunk. Devil was not quite sure what was being said, but he saw the belt in his father's hand, and the sawed-off in his other.

"You ain't my son no more" his daddy was saying and he lifted the belt, and Devil knew what was coming, he had lived it for so many years, but he thought he had lived THROUGH this, and that it was over now. Devil cowed away. Junior lifted the shotgun. Devil heard a loud bang.

And when the roll of thunder woke him up, Devil couldn't help it. He screamed.

* * *

><p>Boyd had noticed that Devil's behavior was a little off when he headed upstairs to go to sleep with barely a word of passing. He reckoned it had something to do with Daniel; the kid was his usual silent self, and someone as outspoken and gregarious as Devil was presumably not sure how to deal with it, possibly assuming that Daniel was being rude.<p>

Secretly Boyd was sure those two would at some point get along quite well. Daniel was very intelligent, but he needed someone to show him the ropes. And Devil was more than fit to do that, not to mention Boyd thought that a purpose, like for example watching over Daniel, was just what Devil needed to feel at home again.

Switching off the lights everywhere and seeing to it that Daniel was settled comfortably on the couch for the night, Boyd went upstairs, stopping in front of the spare briefly, considering whether him and Devil ought to have a word about Daniel. But Boyd decided against it. It was late, and this could wait until the morning.

Boyd slipped in between the covers and snuggled against Ava, who made a satisfied sound and turned to him.

"Wondered when you'd come" she murmured and smiled sleepily.

"Here I am, baby" Boyd whispered and kissed her goodnight.

The thunderstorm was rather noisy, and Ava was being especially cuddly tonight, so Boyd had trouble drifting off. Every time he was just about to fall asleep an exceedingly loud roll of thunder would drag him back into awareness. At last he slept soundly, but only for the briefest amount of time before a scream tore through the night.

Ava and Boyd jerked awake at the same time. Ava gripped his arm.

"What was that?"

"I don't know, baby" Boyd said slowly, listening to any further sounds. "But I'd like to find out."

"Be -"

The sound of a door being opened and then feet hurrying down the stairs gave them the indication they needed.

"Was – was that Devil?" Ava asked, perplexed. Boyd did not respond, instead he shrugged on a shirt and rushed out of the bedroom.

The front door was wide open, and raindrops were blown in by the icy wind. Daniel was standing up from the couch, tumbling over to where Boyd stood at the foot of the stairs.

"S'Devil" he said. "Just ran down the stairs'n, like, outside. Like he's runnin' from somethin'."

"Thank you, Daniel" Boyd said distractedly. He took his warm jacket from the coat rack and shrugged it on before he went outside.

Devil was sitting on the lowermost step to the front porch, head in his hands, and he was breathing so fast Boyd thought he was just short of a collapse.

"Devil?" Boyd neared him carefully. "Devil, my friend? Whatever happened here, son?"

Devil didn't answer him. He was murmuring things, in between sharp, shallow intakes of breath.

"…didn't think he'd… ain't seen… this was jus' some dream, jus' some dream… why…"

Boyd was alarmed, to say the least. Devil was rocking to and fro now, still panting like he had just run the New York marathon. His hair was plastered to his head, and Boyd took notice of Devil's state of undress and that he had to be freezing.

Ava appeared at the door, clutching her bathrobe around herself. When she saw Devil, her eyes went big.

"Jesus Christ" she breathed. "What the hell's goin' on?"

"Somethin's wrong with Devil" Boyd offered redundantly. He did not know how else to put it.

Ava rushed down the steps and kneeled down in front of Devil.

"Devil? Devil? Devil!"

She threw a helpless look at Boyd. "He's breathin' too fast."

"Panic attack."

Ava and Boyd looked at Danny, who had stood himself next to Boyd without them noticing. He cleared his throat.

"Panic attack. That's what it looks like. Hyperventilatin'. He needs to breathe normal or he gon' pass out."

Devil was whimpering now, and Boyd could read the shock in Ava's eyes.

"Panic attack" she repeated it to herself. "Okay then."

She grabbed Devil's wrists in a vice grip then and Boyd jerked forward in an attempt to stop her; if she startled him, Boyd couldn't judge what Devil was able to do right then, in this state. But Ava was not deterred, not even when Devil flinched like she had burned him and tried to pull away. Ava held against Devil's strength the best she could, shouting over the rain.

"Devil! Hey, Devil, listen to me!" She slapped him across the face and then roughly grabbed his chin.

"Devil?"

Devil's eyes found hers, and Ava spoke slowly and clearly, in a voice as soothing as she could manage in the freezing cold.

"Devil, I need you to look at me, a'right? This ain' nothin' but a bad dream, and you need to calm down, You're fine. You're all right. You're all okay. Now I need you to breathe slowly. Come on. Take a deep breath."

"Ava" Devil sounded like he barely recognized her.

"That's right, Devil, it's me. Sweetie, I think you got a panic attack, so I need you to breathe for me, alright? Nice and slow."

"Through the nose" Danny said. He appeared as unimpressed in this disconcerting situation as he was with everything else. "Needs to breathe through the nose."

"Alright then" Ava said and put a hand over Devil's mouth. When he flinched again and tried to pull away, more violently this time, she called out to him again. "Just tryin' to help you calm down, okay? Everythin's fine, sweetie. Just calm down."

Devil was visibly struggling. Ava stayed seated in front of him, and Boyd was certain they had never been this close before. Hard as Ava's shell could seem, deep inside she had the urge and the ability to look after people, more than Boyd could ever understand, or learn.

Eventually Devil's breathing calmed slightly, and his shoulders sagged down exhaustedly. Ava took her hand away and forced Devil to look her in the eye again.

"D'you know where you are?" she asked matter-of-factly. He nodded.

"D'you know what happened?"

"Had a panic attack?"

"Yeah."

Ava sighed heavily and got up. Both her and Devil were shuddering from the cold temperatures and the rain now, and Boyd noticed himself to not be better off. Daniel beside him had not moved an inch either, staying outside with them.

"Let's get y'all inside" Ava said, and even her voice was trembling. "'Fore you die on me from the sniffles or somethin'."

"That sounds like a reasonable idea, baby" Boyd said. He took the few steps down to Devil and reached a hand out. "Devil? Come on inside, son."

Devil shot him a look that spoke volumes before he took Boyd's offered hand and pulled himself upright. He was beyond exhausted, and he was mortified, as well, a notion Boyd could relate to very much. Losing complete control not only in front of friends who had never seen you lose it like this but also in front of a stranger, it made dealing with this kind of situation even harder than it would have been in any event.

They assembled in the kitchen, where Ava handed out towels and Daniel dropped a pile of blankets in Devil's lap. They were the blankets Boyd had handed him to get comfortable on the couch, but it was obvious Devil needed them more, seeing as now that his breathing had calmed, his entire body was racked with chills, his lips slightly blue. His hands shook so much he could not grab the cup of tea Ava served him. After two failed tries he let the cup stay on the table.

"Whatever" he said. "Hate tea anyway."

He hunched in on himself, wrapping the blankets tightly around his shaking frame. "I'd rather take somethin' bit stronger."

"Good idea" Boyd said and poured them both two fingers of bourbon. "I could just about use one of those, as well."

"Ava" Devil said and rubbed at his forehead in a gesture that Boyd understood as one of embarrassment. "Can I get a smoke?"

"Sure" Ava said, failing to hide her surprise at Devil knowing about her secret stash, and Boyd smiled at her. They all knew she still kept cigarettes in the house, even if she didn't smoke them. Boyd guessed those were reserved for emergencies, like the one at hand. When Devil had lit up a cigarette and deeply inhaled the first whiff of smoke, Boyd spoke up carefully.

"Devil. I know this might be hard for you to talk about, but I need to know what in the Heavens just happened to… have you in such a state of unadulterated alarm."

"English, Boyd" Devil said, sinking down in his chair a little.

"You know what I mean. What the fuck just happened there, son?"

"I, uh… I." Devil did not look at him. He seemed uncomfortably aware of Ava and Daniel's presence, but for once Boyd did not care.

"I jus'… had a messed-up dream."

"How messed-up are we speakin'?"

"I dunno. Pretty goddamn fuckin' messed-up?" Devil shrugged.

"Well, what was it about then?"

"Shit, Boyd. Do I really need to-"

"I'm just askin' you to tell me. So I can comprehend whether it warrants such a reaction."

Devil rolled his eyes.

"Do go on, Devil. It might help you to talk about it."

"And when'd you turn into Dr. fuckin' Phil?"

"Devil." That was Ava. She was hovering by the sink, and her speaking-up was what did the trick, since when Devil glanced at her, he had to see how overwrought and worried she looked. He glowered at his cooling tea.

"Had a dream bout my daddy. Ain't had one of those in ages. Guess it just messed with me a little."

Ava opened her mouth to say something, but Boyd stopped her with a shake of his head. She did not know as much about Devil's family background. She did not know the story of Bloody Harlan 1991, or why Devil had the Southern Justice Flag tattoo done on his right upper arm and not anywhere else. To someone who knew all this, as Boyd did, Devil's explanation made perfect sense.

When Devil's shaking subsided enough for him to walk without aid him and Daniel went and sat on the couch. Devil had been quite embarrassed, but he had declared that he did not want to go to sleep again, and Daniel offered to watch TV with him. Devil took up the offer gratefully, momentarily forgetting he didn't like Daniel much. They were watching old reruns of Seinfeld that made Devil huff out a tired laugh from time to time while his eye lids drooped and Daniel sat next to him, stone-faced, when Ava dragged Boyd into the kitchen again.

"He's lyin'" she whispered. She was angry, and as tired as Boyd himself was, for a moment he was unable to follow her line of thought.

"Pardon?"

"Devil. Boyd, whatever he said, he lied when he said he's fine. He ain't doin' fine."

Boyd threw another look to the couch, where Devil was trying his hardest to stay awake, evidently afraid of what other nightmares sleep might bring to him. He could not help but be inclined to agree with Ava: Whatever Devil said, he was definitely not as "fine" as he had claimed, no, insisted he was. Boyd sighed.

"Well, I guess we will have to try real hard to make sure he's gon' be fine again, won't we?"

* * *

><p>I'd like to promise I will post chap 4 tomorrow, but in all likelihood I'll be too hungover, so we'll see.<p>

I wish all of you a happy year of 2015!


	4. Chapter 4

I am sorry for waiting this long. I am dragging my feet at the moment. Actually, I don't even have time for anything, because I am supposed to be writing a term paper and studying for an exam, but I'm so starved for creative output I need to do something that has nothing to do with uni. So here I go, finally posting the fourth chapter. This is all I have of the story so far. I will finish it, at some point. (Obviously, the interest in this has subsided somewhat, so I don't feel any pressure other than the pressure I'm putting on myself anyways.)

Warning: Hint at sexual abuse of a child.

Have fun!

* * *

><p>The Penny in the Parking Lot: Part 3<p>

The One with the Match

* * *

><p>Chapter 4<p>

* * *

><p>The sun was up, and the TV was still running, and Danny found himself watching something peculiar called "Teen Titans Go!". He wondered briefly if this was actually something kids watched nowadays, but at least some jokes made the corners of his mouth lift the slightest bit.<p>

The room was chilly, but since Danny had kept his jacket on throughout the night, he was not cold. He had ceded the blankets to Devil, who was lying on the couch next to him, a snoring mess. This wasn't the first panic attack Danny had ever witnessed – he'd seen one or two in prison, and his mother would get them every other day, so he did know how to deal with them. Danny was also aware that outwardly he had shown no observable reaction to what had happened last night. Not even Boyd had been able to tell what he had been thinking, Danny knew that much. Boyd had wondered. Danny understood that, because he'd wondered, too.

This Devil guy did not like him, Danny had known that immediately, but with him the reason was rather easy to identify: he was jealous. It was simple as that, and sometimes it amused Danny how simple humans really were, because Devil had not expected to come back from his undercover mission, or whatever it was he had been doing for Boyd somewhere up north, to find that Boyd had recruited someone new he had met in a bookstore. Danny had detailed information on Boyd Crowder's background, hence he knew about Crowder's Commandoes and how long Devil Lennox had been a part of that. He had dug deeper and learned of Devil Lennox's past, that he had had to kill someone to get in on the Commandoes, but that it was really not comparable to now since the Boyd from the Commandoes was not the Boyd he was now. Things had changed, and Devil was jealous because, if you did compare, Danny had gotten in really, really easily.

What Danny had not known was that, as shitty as his own family was, Devil's family was far worse. That a grown man in his thirties who had killed quite a few people (from what Danny knew or suspected) could still be reduced to a blubbering, panicking mess just because of one single nightmare about his father proved to Danny that there was still a lot to find out about this person.

He had felt quite sorry for Devil, he really had. Perhaps it hadn't shown, but Danny was sorry that this guy had to go through something that horrifying. That was why he'd offered to sit with Devil, watch TV with him until at about 6 am, Devil did fall asleep again. Danny didn't wake him. Now it was past eight, and he was still sleeping, and Danny was still awake, feeling slightly woozy with the lack of rest, but also good about himself because he had contributed to helping Devil calm down.

Danny didn't realize he had fallen asleep himself until Johnny Crowder limped into the house at noon, making unnecessary noise and asking loudly why the hell they were sleeping on the couch together like a pair of fags from San Francisco and Ava chided him for waking them.

* * *

><p>"Have we heard anything from Johnny Crowder yet?"<p>

"Nope, nothing, Sir." Mike sipped his coffee and shrugged.

"Well, I'm not surprised. Didn't think he'd go through with this ridiculous idea without someone to back him up. Seems like he lost his balls alongside the ability to walk a straight line."

Wynn Duffy prepared for a quest on World of Warcraft as he stirred milk into his coffee. After seemingly endless days of doing jobs all across Kentucky, he wanted to enjoy some much-deserved downtime, and there was nothing better than gathering resources and killing a few orcs, at least not to Wynn. Well, apart from watching women's tennis and listening to the White Stripes.

"Hey, Mike."

"Yeah?"

"Do you know if there's an acceptable pizza place nearby? I really think I need to-"

He was interrupted by a knock on the door of the trailer. They exchanged a look.

"Are we expecting someone?" Wynn asked in a low voice. Mike shook his head.

"Well, check who it is then."

Mike threw a glance out of the window. He frowned.

"It's some old guy. Looks harmless."

"Can you give me a little more information than that?"

"Well, he's old. Really old."

Wynn rolled his eyes. "Something else? Is he armed, for God's sake?"

"Can't tell. Should I let him in?"

"Ask what he wants first. Maybe he's just got the wrong address."

Mike opened the door and stuck his head outside. "Yeah?"

"I'm here to see Wynn Duffy."

It was an old voice indeed, one that sounded like it was full of disdain. Wynn wracked his brain for old, disdainful men who might want something to do with him, but he came up empty.

"What d'you want?"

"I would like to tell him myself."

"Yeah. You can tell me and I'mma tell him."

"Tell him I want to talk to him."

"Bout what?"

"That's also something I would like to discuss with him personally."

Mike withdrew into the trailer again and looked at Wynn questioningly. "He says he just wants to talk to you."

"Yeah, I heard that." Wynn gnawed on his lip. "He's really old, you say?"

"Yeah. Wears grandpa pants. Y'know, the type that's three sizes too big and hiked up to the armpits."

Wynn sighed. "Ask his name. What's his name?"

Mike opened the door again. "Name?"

"Lee Paxton."

Mike peered at Wynn, who just shrugged. The name didn't mean anything to him. He made a waving motion with his hand. Mike stepped aside.

"Alright, come in then. I'm gonna search you for guns."

"Feel free, young man" Paxton said, climbing the few stairs up into the motor coach with a deliberate slowness. His eyes were red-rimmed and as disdainful as the sound of his voice had suggested. He fixed Wynn with a look that Wynn could not rightly interpret. Mike patted him down and nodded at Wynn then. All clear.

"Am I allowed to sit down and have a talk with you now?" Paxton asked politely. Wynn gestured to a seat across from him.

"Why yes, Mr. Paxton, do have a seat."

He waited until the older man had settled down before he clasped his hands together. "Now. Who are you and to what do I owe the honor of talking to you?"

Paxton turned around and shot Mike a look. "I'd like to discuss that in private."

"Alright then, Mike, wait outside, would you?"

Mike opened his mouth in protest, but Wynn cut him off. "I'm sure I'll be just fine, Mike, now, outside please."

Paxton waited until Mike had closed the door. "Nice bodyguard you've got there."

"He came with the motor coach. Wanted to be a doctor once, can you believe it?"

"Whyever didn't that work out?"

"Oh, you know, the usual stuff that happens when you're at college. You snort too much cocaine, you fuck the corpses in the morgue, and suddenly you're expelled. That's life. As amusing as it is to talk about my bodyguard, though, I'm still not clear on what you want from me, so why don't you think about that instead of Mike?"

"One thing YOU should think about" Paxton said, and his face twisted into a smile that could only be described as ugly, "is that you should consider getting a bodyguard who can find weapons when he pats someone down."

With that he drew a small revolver from his pants, small enough to be hidden in a place that Wynn didn't even want to think about.

"Okay then" he said slowly. "So, you feel more comfortable talking to me with a gun in hand. I can understand that. Uhm. But since I really don't know who you are, I really don't think this is necessary, so-"

"Oh, you'll know who I am in a minute, Mr. Duffy." Paxton pointed the Smith & Wesson 36 at him. "If you shout for your retarded henchman, I will shoot you, you should believe me."

"Doesn't look like I have much of a choice." Wynn calmly raised his hands. Lord knew this was not the first gun in his face.

"Now that we are in this much more comfortable situation, I guess I can tell you why I'm here."

"Don't hold back." After a glance at the gun, Wynn stood corrected. "On second thought, do hold back, just a little."

"Shut up. I'm doing the talking now."

"Alright."

"My name is Lee Paxton."

"I figured as much."

"You might have heard from me. I own a funeral home in Clover Hill."

"Uhm…"

"It's not important. You definitely know who I am now, don't you?"

"I most certainly do."

"And I'm gonna make sure as all hell that you don't forget me either, you pretentious little piece of shit."

Wynn Duffy didn't have anything to say to that that would not have gotten him shot, so he wisely kept his mouth shut.

"Do you remember Stacey Granger?"

Wynn stiffened. Paxton smiled grimly.

"I thought so. How could you ever forget her, after she stole 200,000 dollars from you?"

"Yes, I remember that person quite clearly. Why are you asking?"

"Did you know she went missing last year? And that her car was found abandoned on the side of a road? And that her blood was sprayed all over the grass there? Did you know that?"

Wynn stayed silent.

"I bet you already knew all of that, because I bet you had something to do with that. You want to hear my theory of what happened, or can you already imagine what I'm gonna say?"

"Look-"

"What I bet you did not know, Mr. Duffy, is that Stacey and I were friends, for a very long time. I took her in after her father had murdered her mother when she was ten years old. I gave her a roof over her head."

"I bet you fucked her, too, huh?"

Paxton laughed. "Like you didn't?"

"Well, Mr. Paxton, when I met her, she was a) a grown woman, and b) a prostitute, so when I paid her to fuck her, I'm pretty sure I did not break the law as much as you did when you fucked a little girl."

"She initiated it. She liked it. I helped her build a life."

"Sure, Mr. Paxton. Whatever you say."

"You don't know her as well as I did. That girl was stone-cold. A business genius."

"A lying, stealing bitch" Wynn added.

"But it worked out well for my little girl, didn't it. She got so rich that at some point, she didn't need to do the dirty work anymore. She had employees. She lived a good life. Until you, YOU killed her."

"And how do you know that, Mr. Paxton?" Wynn asked slowly. "You didn't deny that she's a lying, stealing bitch. No-one ever found a body, am I correct? How do you know she's dead?"

"Because she would never hide from me!" Paxton shouted and slammed a hand on the table. Mike opened the door when he heard the commotion.

"Mr. Duf-"

"We're fine, Mike!" Wynn hurried to say. "No need to come inside, Mr. Paxton just got a little emotional!"

"Alright" Mike said, but he did not sound convinced in the slightest.

"Alright, now calm down" Wynn said when the door was closed again. "So maybe Granger's dead, but I sure as shit didn't kill her."

"Then who did? Huh? You had the motive, you bought her whore house afterwards. You killed her to get your money back."

"Admittedly, those are good points. And I did indeed get my money back after she disappeared. But, Mr. Paxton, I did not kill her."

"Then tell me who did. If it really wasn't you – and I'm not saying I believe you bilious bastard – if it really was not you who killed her, then who?"

"Just out of curiosity, what would you do if you ever did find out who killed her?"

"I'd kill that son of a bitch, and I'd make him suffer first. I know my way with the human anatomy. Trust me, I'd make it last."

"Okay." Wynn thought hard. What to say, what to say? He cleared his throat.

"Mr. Paxton. Have you ever considered that maybe I don't know who might have done it?"

"No, I did not. Because I know it was you."

"How would-"

"Or at the very least, it was you who ordered it."

"Well-"

"Seeing as you're a big thing in the business nowadays, you might not want to get your hands dirty with the low task of killing, and I sure understand. So if you insist so very much that YOU didn't do it, give me a goddamned name then."

"And if I can't give you a name?"

Paxton raised a brow. "I'm not leaving without a name."

"And if I really can't give you one?"

"Then I'll kill you. I know you had something to do with this. I know you did." Paxton leaned forward. "Give. Me. A. NAME."

"Fine then" Wynn snapped. "Why don't you just go ahead and shoot me then. This is getting ridiculous."

"What about Anna?"

Wynn Duffy's world stuttered to a halt.

* * *

><p>So Johnny had spent the entire day alone at Audrey's yesterday because Ava had fed him some bullshit about Devil being sick or something, and when he had stopped by Ava's place to tell her how full of shit she was, he'd seen Devil and Danny lying on the couch together, looking like best friends. Devil had looked sick, indeed, pale and exhausted, but Johnny hadn't cared.<p>

"Why the fuck didn't you show up?" he'd growled at Ava. "I been holdin' up the entire place since eight this morning, waitin' for you and Devil to show up!"

"Devil ain't feelin' well" Ava had explained, equally angry. "And you woke him up. Great job, Johnny, really, well done."

"What the fuck are you even talkin' about? He's there, and he's perfectly fine!"

"Wha'?" Devil chose that moment to mumble something, rubbing at his eyes, looking like for the life of him he couldn't remember where and who he was. Perfect timing, Johnny thought and got even angrier.

Danny had stood up and stretched, yawning silently, and Johnny had turned to snap at him.

"And why ain't you at the bar, huh?"

Danny had looked from him to Ava impassively. That airheaded kid never spoke a word to him unless it was absolutely necessary, and Johnny didn't even know why. Ava had sighed.

"He helped me take care of Devil."

"Helped you how? He was sleeping!"

"Johnny, calm the fuck down, alright? I'm sorry I didn't call you, but it is what it is."

"Ava-"

Ava had thrown her arms in the air in a resigned gesture and then continued to pull him away, outside, where she explained what had occurred. Devil had a panic attack? Johnny still didn't know what to think of that. He had been wondering the entire time what Devil had been up to in Frankfort. This fishy business he apparently had going on with Duffy, and the fact that someone had stabbed him – and now the panic attack… it sounded to Johnny like Devil had done a lot more up there than he ever let on around anyone but Boyd.

Boyd. Johnny's insides scrunched up in hate. Now that Boyd not only had his own private eye/lap dog (and he still did not comprehend how Danny had just appeared out of nowhere) but also Devil was back from Frankfort and apparently more loyal than ever before, Johnny didn't see any chance of how he was ever going to get rid of Boyd. Ava loved him. Hell, everybody loved him.

"Brother, if you rub that bar any harder, it's gonna dissolve into nothin'" Devil said and ripped him out of his thoughts. They were at Audrey's, and apart from the fact that Devil had dark bags under his eyes and yawned a lot, it was like yesterday, the panic attack and the whole Ava-and-Devil-not-showing-up drama had never happened. Devil was sitting at one of the tables, pouring his sixth coffee of the day into himself, and it wasn't even noon yet.

"Can't get the shit clean" Johnny said, trying to justify his ferocious treatment of the wooden bar. The spot he had let his anger out on was indeed very clean now – so clean, in fact, that he had scraped off the top layer of varnish and now the spot was lighter than the rest. It looked horrible. Johnny sighed and threw the rag down.

"Whatever you say, man" Devil shrugged.

"Don't you have shit to do?" Johnny snapped at him. Devil shrugged again.

"Slow day."

"Oh yeah? Or are you just too lazy to do anythin'?"

Devil stirred his coffee, not taking the bait. He had changed, in moments like these Johnny saw it clearly. The pre-Frankfort Devil would have stood up and gone a long way to show Johnny that he was wrong.

"Hey" Johnny said, suddenly desperate to get a rise out of him. "What was that whole panic attack thing about, huh?"

Devil glared at him. "None of your concern."

"You sure? I mean, if you turned psycho while you were gone, don't you think we should know that?"

Devil looked murderous now, but he was just grinding his teeth together. Not the reaction Johnny had hoped for. Eventually he stood up and went over to the bar to refill his coffee cup.

"What'd I ever do to you, Johnny? Dunno who's more psycho right now: me, or you" Devil said and returned to his seat without sparing him another glance. Johnny was effectively silenced by that.

His cell rang then. He looked at the display; unknown number.

"Hello?"

"Well, hello, Mr. Crowder. This is Wynn Duffy."

Johnny almost dropped his phone. Devil was staring at his cup, not paying attention, and Johnny calmed himself down.

"Uh, hi. What can I do for you?"

"Ah, not alone, are we?"

"Nope."

"Okay then. I just got a simple question for you. It won't take long."

"Shoot."

"How attached are you to Devil Lennox?"

The question caught Johnny Crowder completely off guard. He looked at Devil again, panicked, imagining he could hear the other side of the conversation. Of course he couldn't.

"Uhm. Why are you askin'?"

"I'll explain later, maybe. Just answer the goddamned question."

Johnny breathed. "Not much."

"That's certainly nice to hear. So you wouldn't cry a tear if he ended up, say, a little more dead than he is now?"

"…no."

"Interesting. Interesting. So if I was inclined to do you the favor of killing your valued cousin for you and Mr. Devil ended up as collateral damage, what would you say to that?"

"I'd say that sounds fuckin' perfect" Johnny said, trying to keep his voice as even as he possibly could. Inside he was buzzing with nervous energy.

"I'm in Winchester near Lexington. Patrick Lane. You should really come by, there's someone here that you should meet."

"Alright. Bye."

Devil looked up. "Who was that?"

"Just a friend."

"'Kay."

"Gotta go somewhere real quick, I won't be long, alright?"

"Whatever." Devil yawned into the crook of his elbow. Johnny limped over to his truck as fast as he was able to. His heart was hammering against his ribs.


End file.
